


The Darkest Hour (fanart & ficlet)

by sg_fic



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Angst, Fanart, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-30 23:27:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6446473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sg_fic/pseuds/sg_fic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Much like Schism, AvX broke my fangirl’s heart—so here’s what really happened between the boys during that run. A sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/4368446">What Happens Next</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Darkest Hour (fanart & ficlet)

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed, and also angst because comic-verse.

 

Utopia stood, dark, quiet and solemn. Small waves were caressing the sandy bay area, and flaring high to shutter against the rocky cliffs by the main headquarters. Above it, the sky was pitch dark; only a couple of pale stars could be seen through rifts in the black clouds.

Earlier that night heavy rain blanketed everything, but now only the last faint ticking of the rain could be heard, and the salty air coming in through the cracked open window of his bedroom was wet and cold.

 _The darkest hour_ , Scott thought as he tore his eyes from the window only to close them; warmth and bitterness playing an endless tug of war within his heart.

Yes it was the darkest hour, and yes soon dawn would break upon the sleeping island, but in the dark he was just Scott Summers. Wolverine was just James ‘Logan’ Howlett.

Making love was just that; a passionate and tender truce between two men who loved each other and weren’t forced to fight.

Not against humanity who threatened to cure-slash-destroy them, not against fanatic mutants trying to undo the frail reconciliation that was Charles’s lifetime achievement, not against the Avengers who made them choose sides, and mainly not against each other—not over Hope’s fate, not over Rogers’ causes, not even over their own differences.

Tomorrow Wolverine would follow the Captain’s orders, would hunt Cyclops down, but tonight Logan was submitting to Scott, lying quietly and obediently beneath him with his legs wrapped around the slim waist. Tonight Scott was bending down to kiss him lingeringly, lovingly, his thrusts slow and measured because he knew Logan equally needed and resented submitting this way. 

_“…Summers…”_

“You like that?”

“…yeah.”

And in the dark it was okay. Scott didn’t think less of Logan seeing how much he enjoyed taking it. Logan didn’t think less of Scott seeing how much he cared.

Then Scott touched him just right one time too many and Logan came, unable to deny that he was moved by the way Scott covered his face with gentle kisses throughout his climax.

 _Halfway there,_ he thought bitterly even while still arching beneath Scott, against Scott, as close as he could possibly get…

By now they both knew the drill;

Scott would watch his face closely as he’d renew the pace, careful trusts that would grow in speed but remain measured because damn if fearless lost control even while reaching an orgasm (and of course Logan could take it, he took bullets on a daily basis for crying out loud), then later Logan would lie prone and Scott would throw an arm and a leg over his body and sated they’d sleep in each other arms; in an improvised temporary shelter that they’d built together, one that made them feel like two ordinary men, entitled to selfishness—to happiness.  

Just before dawn they would hold each other in complete silence.

They never said the three words but they both knew the feelings were there. That if they could have been _just_ Scott and _Just_ Logan—everything would have been different.

There were other words left unsaid, too, words like _how can you, she’s family, she’s a team member—you were an X-Man long before you became an Avenger! This is the exact same stunt you pulled with Omega—same kind of misjudgment all over again, you get an idea stuck in your head and you let your claws do your thinking from there on!_

Words like, _I thought better of you,_ _how can you be so selfish—the fate of the world is at stake, shove your stupid pride where the sun doesn’t shine and hear the Captain out!_

Deeper still were words like _‘You left us and never returned. You knew that things were complicated, you knew that what we had was as good as it could possibly get… I loved you but you left all the same._

And—

_I love you Slim, you piece of shit, I love you even though you let me go, just like that, like you had nothing to offer but your stinking blessing._

But a wordless mutual agreement had kept them both quiet.

In a sense they were saying the words; angry pulls and shoves while making out, tender caresses while making love… but neither could put down his guards; the two of them have been hurting too badly long before they started hurting each other.

Seemed that holding each other before going to war against one another was as good as it got for Cyclops and Wolverine…

…at least right then, at least until one of them would hurt bad enough to admit defeat, break the vicious cycle… or until one of them realized life’s too short.

Till then they’d kiss goodbye, long and tender, and the kiss would hurt them both—hurt more than any physical injury the war might inflict on them come morning, but they’d do it all the same.

In broad daylight no one would ask Scott about the love bites on his shoulders and neck, or the sadness that rolled off his body in waves.  In broad daylight no one would question Logan about his whereabouts the previous night, or what made him so irritable and annoyed. 

And they’d both miss the dark like hell.

 


End file.
